Fantasy The Dragon Wardens: Exodus

[Effervescent]

It was the end of an era. The once glorious Haven of the Dragon Wardens was attacked by the surrounding kingdoms and burned to the ground. All Wardens and their dragons were hunted down and slaughtered as humanity feared their power. Any survivors had no choice but to run and hide.


Dragon Wardens were once the peace keepers of the land, often called in to mediate disputes or prevent entire wars. Those who refused their council gave up the right to their protection, and thus the accepting side would have their aid in the war. Few would ever give up that right. Through the Dragon Wardens' help, the lands have created a prosperous trade route.


But humanity began to question the validity of the Dragon Wardens after countless accounts of Warden attacks were reported. The dragons feasted upon villages and the Wardens would plunder and murder innocents. It was very out of the norm for what everyone had known of these peace keepers.


It has been a season since the Haven fell, calling in Autumn in the Middle Lands and colder temperatures in the mountains. The Dragon Wardens are still being hunted down and killed, making it difficult for them to find people they can trust. Their numbers are scattered throughout the land. Hiding and protecting the dragons takes effort. In some lands, those who aid the Wardens commit treason. Dragon nests are hunted down and eradicated.


The remaining Dragon Wardens must rally together to right this wrong, and refute the horrid allegations against them. They must bring back peace to the land.

 

[Effervescent]

Prologue


4th Day of Winter

Rosenfall

The city of Rosenfall rests atop a hill in Western Thallas surrounded by thick fields and dense forests. The castle sat upon the precipice as a bastion of prosperity and hope, the white stone gleaming in the sunlight with the faintest tinge of lavender. Surrounding its base were houses, taverns, workshops, and schools that snaked and circled and wove itself into districts. The Season of Winter had finally come, and it couldn't have come at such an inopportune time for Thallas and its allies. Due to the attacks brought upon the land by Shadow Casters, food stocks had gone rancid or were killed as bystanders to the dark magic.


Resources were poured into hunting down every last Dragon Warden that survived the Fall of the Haven. The once peaceful neutral society that dedicated their lives to the betterment of the surrounding kingdoms fell by the brute and unforeseen onslaught of power contained within siege weaponry that was not of their make. It was unlike anything anyone had ever witnessed before, and even now the massive weapons lined Rosenfall's walls, fortifying the city as if it were a strategic hold. Some say the weapons just appeared in the night like a magic of their own and was a blessing of some mysterious entity. Some speak of low hums in the darkness just before Harvest and the weapons descended from clouds in the skies. Whatever the means, the citizens of Rosenfall did not seem to care to know the details. They felt safe after all that had transpired. Not only did it give a sense of protection against the Shadow, it made them feel less threatened by the Dragon Wardens that were carted through the city to be placed within the dungeons under the grand castle.


Within the Stonehath District was a favored tavern among Rosenfall called the Joust. When it was built, the owners decided to give their patrons a clear view of the Thall fields that sprawled across the Northeastern face and lined the wall with glass. Since it rested right upon a cliff side, no rooftop could mask their grand panorama. And despite the lively atmosphere and constant bustle, the patrons always managed to take a moment to admire the grandeur that brought about a sense of patriotism.


"This is what we're fighting for," a guardsman said as he pointed his fork towards the windows. His surrounding comrades looked over their shoulders and nodded in quiet agreement as he continued. "Look at that view. It'll never get old. And it's our duty to see to that."


The woman next to him clad in the same golden armor speared her roasted meat with pursed lips. "Hopefully we can end this blight soon," she said as she chewed the roast slowly. "I'm getting sick of dragon meat."


"I'm sure we'll all get a fresh supply soon," the tavern owner chimed in with an eye roll. She swiped a few stray gray hairs from her face as she wiped her hands off on her apron. "I heard Cald came in with another Dragon Warden just this morning. It's been a while since he came 'round."


"Aye, I should speak with him soon," the guardsman said. "Supposedly he knows more about the coming trial than we've been told."


"Caldhas too many connections," the woman next to him added. Her fork moved through the meat to peel the tender roast apart strand by strand. "The city gossip, that one."


"I don't see why there's even going to be a trial," the tavern owner said. "It's not like they deserve it after what they did and continue to do."


"There's a boy, Dana," the guardsman informed, and the tavern owner gave pause, her eyes widening in shock. "A boy Dragon Warden no more than your grandson's age, from what I heard."


@Red Thunder


The trial was to take place within a week's time and was to feature the currently captured Dragon Wardens. No one was certain what Queen Malan's true goal was to be, and it didn't add up in the minds of the Thalls. Their curiosity would set Rosenfall abuzz with theories and possibilities, and since it was destined to be open to the public, most were planning on getting to the castle gates early to be able to witness the trial first hand.


That very morning, Addiver Cald steered a wagon up the hillside with a boy cuffed in runed irons at his side. Those upon the streets watched on in confusion. The boy's fiery red hair was the only indication that he was, indeed, an enemy of Thallas and a Dragon Warden. Never before had a Dragon Warden been seen in Rosenfall so young. Especially after the Fall of the Haven, every Dragon Warden that had come through had all been adults of varying degrees. It made their jeers mindless and their want for their deaths thoughtless.


But this sight seemed to shake the mindsets of the citizens. War wasn't for children. Death was too soon for someone so young, even if he were the enemy. They knew in their hearts he could not have been responsible for what happened in Edlenfeld, and they all quietly hoped the child had not been corrupted in some way, that maybe they didn't have to be responsible for the death of someone so young.


It was the very affect AddiverCald was hoping to achieve. Perhaps a child would cause Queen Malan pause to listen to the truth of the matter. And so the word spread throughout the walls of Rosenfall until the information permeated the city by noon. By that point, the Dragon Warden named Olsten was placed within a section of the castle's more secret dungeon deep within the rock the city rested upon.


The air was damp, and slimy moss grew upon the chiseled rock where water continued to drip. The only light came from the hole above thickly grated in iron. Any Dragon Warden placed within the oubliette would find themselves unable to use their hands, for they left the warded cuffs around their wrists. Etched across the stone walls were the same runes embossed within the cuffs. It was designed by the Vuaturi and intended to detain magical rogues in the Era of Uncertainty nearly a hundred years ago.


Olsten would find he is not alone, for within another section of the chamber was another detainee. Grybil was still too distant to be felt.


@Macaberz @Elle Joyner

The Northern Mountains

Winter held itself more briskly in the Northern Mountains. Snow had fallen the night before that had accompanied a strange and dense darkness emanating from within the mountain range. Harsh winds in the sky nipped at exposed skin and dusted off the mountains. Amidst the brightness that sheened off the white blanket of snow were two figures flying chaotically as if trying to shake each other off and gain the upper hand. Even at a distance, it was clear they were dragons, but closer it could be seen that there was only one dragon with a rider.


The one rider began to conjure a ball of fire within his hands and thrust it towards the pursuing dragon. It swooped away deftly and rolled to the left. A shrill roar struck through the opposing dragon, and while it had not been struck it cried out in pain. As the Dragon Warden flew on, the other dragon began to fall, its body limp as gravity pulled it closer and closer to the valley below. Its body struck the snow harshly, and the snow that clung to the mountain face was brought loose in an avalanche. The lone Dragon Warden swooped around with uncertainty, and he watched the lifeless dragon become engulfed and buried beneath the falling snow. The dragon was surely dead, but before the two could sigh in relief, another dragon came into view, this time with a rider.


The Dragon Warden knew this was no friend of his, especially after the night's events. But he was tired, as was his dragon, and fighting another unfriendly did not bode well for his survival. The rider urged his dragon to fly as swiftly as she could, but fatigue was apparent with each flap of her wings. Her orange and yellow scales glistened in stark and vibrant contrast to the monochrome of the Northern Mountains as it caught the glint of sunlight.


Their new pursuers looked more like a dark silhouette among the white. The massive, dark dragon was once an Earth dragon, its scales of stone tarnished from taint. The rider wore a mask, her hair tied tightly in a knot of fading red. From her hands she conjured a murder of crows as black as a void and just as soulless. Her hands swayed through the air, commanding the birds to swoop towards the Dragon Warden in harsh abandon. The Fire Dragon cried out as the strange crows swooped completely through her body, and her course changed so sudden the rider nearly fell.


With the onslaught of attacks not just from the crows but from the pursuers, the lone Dragon Warden could hardly conjure a small flame before it was snuffed out by the conjured creatures. His own cry of pain echoed through the mountain range.


@Space Cowboy Ein @CrazyDiamond

Bettleben

Bettleben was once established as a modest village of Faledrin with the aim to make a better life for themselves. A hundred years previous, the first settlers established the fine village just at the border of the Woodlands of Valnahar. They found the lush and beautiful woods to be a good omen for a wonderful future, and the Sur elves in the area would often visit and trade with the citizens of Bettleben. Their most treasured times were at night when the fairies would light the forest with their natural glow.


But just as the fairies faded and were snuffed out, so too were the good people of Bettleben. After the events of Edlenfeld, those with Shadow eventually found Bettleben. While their attack was not so devastating in casualties, it took a major toll on its citizens. Those who were good either died or fled for safety. All that was left were criminals and the unsavory that at least prevented the criminals from running rampant.


One of the few who refused to leave were the owners of the small local tavern and inn. They called it an inn, but they really only had one bedroom, and it was only ever travelers with no other place to go that would rent it for a night. The owners, Laurana and MitchelDromate, had too many life-long ties to the failing village. They wished to see it restored and their hope prevented them from seeing the signs that there was just too much corruption entering than leaving.


The tavern had to accommodate to the new load of patrons. The only reason why they weren't run out of Bettleben was due to the fact that they were the only establishment that had worthwhile food. Unasked favors kept being placed upon them as crime lords brought in barrels of ale with what they said was without a price. Laurana and Mitchel continued to hold their breath in waiting for the generosity to be dangled above them while their lives were to be threatened.


Never the less, the fourth day of Winter seemed to carry with it a better air than most days. The patronage was thinner than usual, but they did not complain. Turkey was on the menu and served to those interested in a meal. Laurana even carried a small smile on her lips as she brought food to the table. It seemed the trial in Rosenfall worked in their favor, though she doubted her usual patrons would be interested in attending. It was likely they were interested in looting while the well-to-do attended. Despite all that had happened in Thallas, it was still a more prosperous region than Faledrin.


Just on the outskirts of Bettleben, a band of Fallenite Guards patrolled cautiously. They had heard rumors of a dragon lurking about the area, and they had been tracking the signs for some time. Their footsteps were quiet and hesitant as they neared the dragon's location. Taking down any dragon was a feat in itself and took a considerable amount of teamwork.


The Arcane Dragon gave them even more of a pause. The intimidating nasal horns looked sharp and its winged claws menacing with hook-like talons. It was clear to them what they would have to do, and they knew where the dragon's weakness would be.


Arcane Dragons carried an underbelly of softer scales as their most vulnerable point. Readying their longbows, they quietly knocked the arrows dipped in poison and aimed. Unlike Thallas, they did not care to use the meat of dragons. Faledrin was also not finding a shortage in livestock, though were unwilling to offer any to their Thall allies. Poison seemed to do the trick well for them, especially with a dragon as small as this one. They knew even as their arrows pierced into its flesh, there would still be time for the dragon to retaliate requiring the guardsmen to prepare for an unnerving fight.


They let loose their arrows, aiming for the dragon's exposed neck where the scales were not so thick.


@JDParadox @BookWyrm

 

[Macaberz]

Rosenfall Dungeons

Olsten & Raleia
​

A slimy drizzle dripped down the jagged rock walls. The wintery cold outside had been like a pleasant mid-summer sunset in comparison to the frigid dungeon he was being led into. It smelled of moss and damp straw.


Four soldiers in total escorted him, one at the front holding a shivering torch and three at the back. It was satisfying to know that they thought so many guards were necessary. He had expected taunts, but his escorts kept their lips sealed. Grybil's presence was gone, but whether distance or death had severed the connection was unclear. He could only hope Addiver Cald would keep his promise. Until then, he could only meekly follow the plump jailer's shivering torch.


After many winding stairs, the jailer halted before a hole in the ground. Hands the size of shovels lifted him up until his feet dangled above the hole. He was lowered, and eventually dropped. The thick iron hatch slammed shut above him and his escort plodded back to a warm fire and their game of cards.


“Wait!” Olsten said, his voice wavering in the cold. He held up his hands as if in prayer. “Aren’t you supposed to take these off? It’s not like I am going anywhere.”


The jailer returned a tired look. “I am not stupid, fly-boy.”


The orange glow faded further and further until only a tiny slither of light, seeping through the grated iron above, illuminated his surroundings.


Across the way, Raleia climbed to her feet and observed the new prisoner. He was young. Too young to be left to rot in prison. But there was no question why he was there. The shock of red stood out like a wildfire. It felt like an eternity since she’d seen another one. They'd taken her cloak when they'd brought her in, to shame her for what she was. She didn't doubt it would get much worse, either. She'd probably be dead soon, if it weren't for the stranger who came at night to leave her food. She didn't know the man, who he was or where he fit into everything, but he'd given her reassurance that if he could, he'd find a way to get them out before the Queen brought them to trial. It was all that had sustained her, up until now.


"They're wards. They're to keep you from using magic." The cuffs had begun to chafe her skin, but she had no delusion that they would be removed if she complained,


How far had they fallen to be treated with such little regard? She knew the rumors were true, what some of the Wardens had done, but did it justify the massacre of so many? Did it rationalize the imprisonment of a mere child?


"What's your name boy?"


Olsten jolted at the voice rinsing the air. “My name doesn’t matter,” he grumbled. He sensed movement, but his eyes had not yet adapted to the dark. So he waited. The first thing he uncovered was her form. Delicate, angular, and not much taller than himself. Two fiery blue eyes, glowing like arcane embers, were framed by snow-like skin. Yet it wasn’t until he noticed the red in her hair that he stood up and approached her. His graceful crash-landing had smeared rust-brown soil on his knees, elbows, and cheek.


“I know what they’re for,” he sighed. “That’s why I was trying to get them removed.”


Her lips curved downward in a soft frown, He was a funny little thing. Young. No older than fifteen. Somewhere between a boy and man, with that cornerstone chin and those round, soft cheeks. His crop of bright red hair was a mess, spikes of it darting in every direction, as if it were trying to escape his head. He carried a certain authority in his voice unbefitting of his age.


"Don't say that... Don't ever say that. Your name matters. Do you understand? Every name, every person... every life matters. I'm Raleia."


“People matter,” he blurted. “Names don’t. They’re just words, and it is much easier to hate words then it is to hate people. All the world hates Dragon Wardens now, but do they hate me? They don’t even know me, yet they put me on trial.”


"Make no mistake, boy,” she said bitterly. “Our dragons, our lives... they were forfeit the moment we were taken. I very much doubt ours will be a fair trial."


She sighed, crossed the cell, and sank onto one of the cold stone benches serving as a bed. She could see Haven burning. She could see Val, crushed beneath the stone steps and her eyes stung with tears. Reaching up, she gripped his amulet until her fingers ached. When she spoke again, the sound of it was softer, broken. "Do not lose heart. Soon enough, we'll be reunited with our people again. Our loved ones..."


A tinge of unease crept up his spine. He wondered if he’d hurt her. He hung his head in defeat and sagged down against the wet rock. She was right, the Queen had little reason to spare them. But he refused to give up.


“If only I could be as certain as you,” Olsten shot back. “I was cursed with hope by the ones who captured me.” An uneasy chuckle escaped him. “I’m not afraid of death you know. But I’m terrified of dying.”


Looking up, she managed a small, sad smile at his confession, "Hope is never a curse, and there is no shame in being afraid. The only discredit comes when you allow that fear to cloud your character. Brave heart, young one. If we are to die, we will do with so with grace and with dignity, in honor of those who have gone before us."

Orignal art by Macaberz.

​

 

[Elle Joyner]

Lowering her gaze, Raleia's grip on the amulet softened and she held it out, her eyes roving over it, the shape of the dragon carved into the bronze face. It looked so like Winnock it hurt. “I lost someone very dear to me, during the siege.” She muttered, “Val. He died... in my arms."


"He's still in there," Olsten muttered quietly. as he brought his index finger to his temple.


"They all are..." She said, and this time, she managed a slightly less oppressed smile. That was the one thing the siege couldn't take. The memories of her people, of their goodness and their bravery, of their strength and the heart that they showed, even at the end. No matter what the others thought, no matter why reasoning they had for attacking the city, Raleia knew the courage and the grace of her people.


"Wait," Olsten interrupted her train of thought. "What did you say his name was?"


"...Valnir. We were betrothed." She could still see it so clearly, sometimes. The events of that night. Valnir, crushed beneath the stones, his body broken, beyond hope of repair. She remembered how desperately she wanted to stay by his side, to die with him, how the only thing that had been able to move her was Winnie, knowing what would happen to him if she perished.


"Valnir?!" Olsten jumped up. His joy was short-lived. "So he's..." A lump formed in his throat.


Raleia nodded.


"I'm sorry..." He hadn't known the charming Fire Warden for very long, but he still remembered the free advice Valnir had given him. Advice such as: "don't ever forget her birthday," and, "for the love of life don't let the meal get burnt". Over time, Olsten had grown quite certain that Valnir was learning as he went.


Snapping out of his memory, Olsten met Raleia's gaze with a smile. "He thought the world of his girl, though he never mentioned you by name." A light blush came to his cheeks as he remembered the brusque fashion in which Valnir had described his beloved to him. Olsten shot a brief glance at Raleia's form. Valnir hadn't lied.


Valnir was so many things, to so many people. He could be so light, so free and he loved to laugh. But he could also be so stern, so strong and brave. With her, only ever with her, he was vulnerable, he was soft and sweet and he loved her with a fire more powerful than any magic in the history of their people. She was hardly surprised, then, when the boy claimed to have known him.


"...It's so strange, to think he's gone." She struggled with the words, with how they seemed to cling to her throat, "I realize every day, more and more, how wrong it all is. How so many suffered and died, for nothing. "Val was a good man and there was nothing he wanted more than peace in our lands. And they took him from me... for what? For vengeance? Out of fear?" A sigh escaped and she looked up, caught the green eyes peering over at her, "I'm glad that you got a chance to know him."


Lowering her gaze again, she managed a weary, dry smile, "You realize of course, we're going to be here for some time, don't you? And that if you don't tell me a name to call you, I will have to make one up. I knew a man once called Tulip..."


Olsten remained silent for a long time. Water dripped steadily into a puddle somewhere in the dark. Every now and then a cold breeze passed through the damp complex and caused him to shiver. Tugging his legs close and resting his chin on his knees he laughed silently at the name she'd thought up for him. "Go ahead," he challenged, "make one up. But you’re going to get one back. If you call me Tulip I’ll call you…" He feigned deep thought. “...Geranium.” Edging a little closer, he cocked his head at her. “Raleia doesn’t quite describe you. You’re more of a Shae, or a Raissa.”


"Funny enough... Loosely translated, Raleia means meadow. Val called me Leia. You may, as well, if you prefer." She laughed, gently. It was strange how foreign the sound felt, how unfamiliar. Had it really been that long? She supposed it had. Even Winnock, who was generally so good at elevating her mood hadn't managed to do much more than win a smile from her.


She cocked her head to the side and took the boy in, and in her mind a memory stirred, something Valnir had mentioned and she narrowed her eyes to focus through the dim lighting.


"Valnir told me stories about a boy in his training unit. A sprite of a thing, smaller than the others, but clever. Impulsive, a bit more than stubborn... Resourceful, and very brave. He was trouble, but in a way Val always found a little more entertaining than he should have. Reminded him, he said, of how Fire Dragons can be... especially the young ones. He called him Ollie."


Pleased to see her laugh, Olsten eagerly agreed. "Leia is a good name." But his mirth was soon turned into mild annoyance at the sound of his nickname. One of Valnir's stupid inventions. He threw his hands up in exasperation. "I can't believe he told you that!” his voice cracked. “He knew I hated that name!" Yet the dimples on his cheeks signaled the opposite.


"Valnir had a way of... humbling people. I wouldn't be at all surprised if that's why he called you that. Of course, I've got no choice, you see. I know no other name to call you." She could see the twist of indignation color his face, but he couldn't disguise those pocks on either side of his mouth.


A frown cut into his forehead and his voice regained its normal pitch. "I wasn't in his unit for very long though," he shook his head as he recalled the motions he had gone through just to escape some sword-play.


"You see I had tried to make Valnir believe I was training with Rasrik and have Rasrik believe I was training with Valnir so I could go do something more useful. Valnir was first to figure it out and let me train with him for a while because I was too scared to go back to Rasrik. In the end he found out too and...well...I think he hated me after that. He was real stern you know. Rasrik I mean. Shouted a lot. You're probably too old to have trained under him." A huff escaped him. "Lucky you."


With a small smile, Raleia nodded. "A long while ago I might have suggested our people were not capable of hatred, but since the siege, I've felt my own outrage stirred more often than not. But I'm sure that you're wrong. I didn't know him, myself, but it sounds to me like maybe he pushed you hard, because he believe in you... not because he hated you. That's generally the case, anyway."


She didn't say it aloud, but she remembered Val mentioning that the kid was a little sneaky too. She could imagine now, to what Val was referring.


Olsten crossed his arms. "He always had me run extra laps because I was smaller... I got along pretty well with Valnir though," Olsten mumbled as he idly drew circles on the ground with his finger.


Raleia smiled gently. “For all he seemed to like everyone, he was in fact quite a stern judge of character. He talked fondly of you and once told me if he were allowed to have children of his own, he hoped they would possess the same spirit, the same valiance. I imagine he enjoyed that bit of bullheadedness as well... given he was very much prone to it himself."


Olsten was glad it was dark as night in the dungeon or she might’ve seen his cheeks flush red. Slowly, he extended his hand to her, "Whatever happens, we can't give up."


As he reached towards her, she stretched her own hand out, slender digits brushing his stubby, muddy fingers, "...Aye, maybe you're right. We aren't dead yet, after all. And I suppose there is always hope, no matter how small."


He nodded. It was a poor excuse for a handshake, but he spoke regardless. "I’m Olsten, if you really want to know…"


She smiled kindly, "Well, Olsten... I'm very glad to finally meet you, properly. If you are the last face I am to meet, I am glad for it... and I hope that I can bring you some comfort, as well. We have dark days ahead, but I will not leave you alone. Not as long as I am able. I promise."

 

[Red Thunder]

Dying Embers of the Inferno:


Waethrin

Rosenfall - Stonehath - the Joust​

"A boy Dragon Warden no more than your grandson's age, from what I heard."


At the next table over sat a bowed figure draped in a muddy brown hooded cloak. A white beard fell generously from his jaw, some of its frayed edges absorbing the watery potato soup on the table below it slowly. But the mouthful of tuber suddenly ceased its chewing at the guardsman's words. The hooded head turned to glance at the tavern owner, her expression still incredulous, and a single gray eye within that gray head held her in a fierce expression.


"Remember that feeling, daughter. Remember it when it comes time for your own to be conscripted to fight the noble's battles for them."


He turned back to his bowl. Taking it in a gnarled hand, he raised it to his lips, sipping away the last dregs that clung to its depths. Setting it down again with the gentle clack of wooden dish striking wooden board, the old man stood. But the hunch in his shoulders that they had borne while sitting remained, as if his head were pushed down by a great weight. Not that he'd have stood tall without that bow; his weathered frame, such as could be discerned beneath his obscuring robe, did not even reach six feet. His movements were slow, strained, stiff as much from sitting as from years of hard labor.


But though his voice creaked like a little used hinge, desperate for oil and to have the rust worked free, a raging fire, desperately trying to retain its heat, could be heard, and it was reflected in his gaze, The thick bladed sword slung across his back and the bit of old black leather beneath his cloak only served to cement the impression of heedless ferocity. With his left hand the old man dropped three coppers next to his empty bowl, and with his right he forced the rough hewn chair back under the table from whence it'd come.


"But War comes, daughter, whether he seek it or no." His hooded head dipped to the guardsmen and women, indicating them carelessly. "These here can speak to that. And all are made to participate without regard: men and women, merchant and slave.


"Old and young."


A frown barely visible behind his ample beard, the old man turned to regard the guardsman that had first spoken, crossing his arms as he did. Frail though his movements had made him seem, it was now evident that time had not robbed him of all of his youthful build. His forearms were toned, hard and defined from regular use.


"You mentioned a coming trial, and then soon after a Dragon Warden. A boy. He is to be the subject of this trial, I guess. Will there be others like him? I've not seen a Warden, never mind several, in some time. If there's a trial, I want to be there."


@Effervescent

 

[BookWyrm]

Quynn and Rasrik.


Faledrin, at the Beetleben Tavern and Inn


“This is less than what we agreed upon” The young man spoke after counting the coins in his hands. He looked up, messy auburn strands of hair having fallen over his eyes and sharp ears, and gave the merchant sitting across the table from him a cold glare. “A lot less” He tipped his palms and let the coins fall to the table. The sum was enough to buy a meal for a common man, yes, but not to feed a Warden and Dragon. Another patron nearby turned at the sound of clinking gold, before going back to pretending he had not witnessed it.


The merchant, fat and bald, smiled, unblinking and spoke with the confidence of a man who had cheated and backstabbed his way through life. “I hired you to get me to Beetleben with all my possessions intact” He paused and leaned over, elbows resting upon the table top, fingers steepling. “Last I checked, my horse is dead”


“Last I checked, you don’t hire a single mercenary to guard a caravan moving over a well-known bandit route” The young warden leaned back, pale green eyes still holding the fat man’s gaze. His hand drifted towards the long blade strapped to his side – a message, a threat, though an empty and desperate one. He had seen the looks they gave him as he entered: a warden and a half-elf, and he had heard the rumors of hunters in the area. Drawing any attention to himself would have been, simply put, suicide.


Unfortunately, the merchant also knew it. His smile never wavered as he stood up from the table. “Shame” He lingered, still not quite satisfied with himself. “It was a pleasure, Warden Quyntalis” The mercenary watched as he walked away, his guts boiling at the last words. He waited until the man was out of sight before hesitantly Quynn gathering the coins and stuffed them in his bag. Angry or not, you had to be realistic about these things. As the last piece of gold fell into the small leather sack, Quynn didn’t feel much like leaving. The sloppy, illegal ale they served here didn’t seem so bad now. Looking over the bar and considering his limited choices, he was surprised to catch a familiar face.


The man was slumped over the bar and over a mug, ashen grey hair withered and dry and clothes wrinkled with ale stains all over. The authority he once carried so naturally seemed to have been drowned by the alcohol; but Quynn would recognize that face anywhere, however changed it was – the same one that he would find looking down upon him, offering a hand after having given him a new set of bruises to complain about.


Gods, a drunkard and a desperate sellsword. How the mighty fall.


“Should have known you’d live, you tough old geezer” Quynn sat himself down on the stool next to Rasrik and ordered the same slop he was drinking so fervently. As much as he tried to hide it, there was a little smile on his face. Drunkard or not, he was glad to not be alone for once.


Rasrik, startled, snapped his head up from where it had been propped up against his hand as it hovered over a half finished mug. He had not been expecting to find what his eyes fell upon when, finally, they fell upon the stranger who had sat next to him. "Quynn?" Ras reached out a trembling hand, trying his best to keep focus on the young half-elf, and laid it on Quynn's shoulder as if trying to discern whether the young Warden was real or just some ghost of Haven.


When his hand gripped solid flesh and bone Rasrik couldn't help but find relief, and amidst his relief his drunken mind found humor. "Dammit Quynn, it's good ta seeya kid." Despite his previous interest in the horrid beverage that now blurred is words as well as his vision Rasrik pushed his mug aside, suddenly interested in different company. "But, wait...how?" Rasrik couldn't stop the words or the ale that fueled them. "How did'ja scape?"


Damn, he instantly regretted his words, am I that ploughin' sloshed?


Quynn's smile quickly faltered at the question, and the bartender seemed to have timed his delivery of the cheap mug of ale perfectly. He took the mug in his hands, looked it over, then tilted his head back and downed it. It burned in his throat - he was never much of a drinker - but it did dull his senses, as intended. "We ran" He bit his lower lip and let his eyes wander off. With a scoff, he continued. "We ran like bloody cowards, with our tails between our legs" Should have stayed and fight, death or not.


"Speaking of which, you and Valos escaped, too, did you not?" Quynn would have given anything to change the subject. His eyes met Rasrik's again, but his expression more sullen now. "How is he these days? I heard there were hunters in the area"


Rasrik felt like an ass for bringing Haven up. If he hadn't been sloshed out of his mind he would have known better, but it had been some time since he'd known sobriety. Here he had been, in this damned tavern, for a month(gods, had it been that long) drinking himself into oblivion, all the while other Wardens had been out there fighting and dying. What good have I been doing? "Look, Quynn, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. Gods I feel like a fool."


But when Quynn asked him about Valos the dread of realization came over him. "Valos has.......wait, Valos.....dammit," Rasrik's head practically fell into his hand, "I only meant to be here for a couple of hours. I need to get back to him."


Rasrik pushed his stool back and stood to his feet, wobbled, and almost fell to the ground if he hadn't caught himself on the bar. Ras forced himself to his feet again and sighed, frustrated and embarrassed to be seen so low. When did I become a drunk? "Quynn, if you don't mind, I think I might need help getting out of here."


"Come on, then, old man" Quynn drew Rasrik's arm around his shoulder and helped him up onto his feet with a grunt. He would let the older Warden stand on his own if he could, but kept a hand on his shoulder for good measures. "Let's get out of here. I'll follow your lead." How times has changed, it used to be Rasrik helping him up, not the other way around. Quynn felt like it should have been funny under some other circumstances, but for some reason he didn't feel like laughing.


Rasrik stopped at the door before, carefully, turning around and attempted to toss a small bag of coins back onto the bar. In his current judgement he overshot, but the man behind the bar caught the small satchel of coins, a surprised look on his face. Ras had enough drinking money in the pouch to cover the rest of the week. Earlier that day he would have killed a man over that money, but now, with cheap ale on his breath and a righteous headache alongside a healthy dose of reality(all thanks to Quynn's timely arrival), Ras didn't think he'd be back in. Ever. But the owners of the tavern and inn were good people trying to earn a living in a town that had gone to hell, and Ras respected that.


Rasrik led Quynn, to the best of his ability, out of town and into the surrounding woods. He and Valos had taken up residence in a cavern a short distance from the city. As he "led" the way Rasrik found himself with a strange check in his gut. You drunken old bastard, leaving your dragon alone for gods know how long just to go drown in your own piss and pity. Needless to say his alcohol induced criticism was harsh, but in many ways it was the truth. What would become of Valos if someone found him while Rasrik was drunk or away?


The dry forest ground, blanketed with leaves and broken twigs, cracked loudly under their feet with every step. The sounds were murder in Quynn's ears, but with Rasrik by his side, it was not avoidable. He never spoke up about it, out of respect most likely, or perhaps he just didn't want to further add to the commotion. When they had come to the half-way point Rasrik felt that nasty twist in his gut, that horrid tingle that started on his scalp and ran down his spine. "Quynn, somethings wrong with Valos."


Valos


The Arcane dragon perched, his wing's tucked against his side, feasting on a deer carcass he had caught earlier. Ras had left earlier, saying he'd come back in a couple of hours. Four hours and counting later, Valos expected the Warden was drunk off his ass back in Bettleben. The thought saddened him, eliciting a quiet whine of sympathy. Ras had not been taking the deaths of his students very well. Often he awoke during the night screaming, waking Valos and setting the dragon on edge, unable to sleep for the rest of the night. Despite that fact that Valos was worried for his Warden he found himself appreciating the quiet times when he could sleep, though it did him no good. He never rested well until Ras was back at the hideout.


Twung


The sudden feeling of being struck around his neck was enough to cause Valos to drop the mouthful of deer meat from his mouth, it falling to the ground with a bloody ssshlop! The realization came only after the pinch had deadened and the small fire lit under his scales.


Arrows?


Hunters!





Valos realized, albeit too late, that he had been surrounded by a group of Fallenite guards and hunters. Spreading his menacing hook-taloned wings, his body and horns streaking with purple in agitation, Valos roared out in challenge, anger, and fear. Exerting muscles he hadn't used in months Valos beat his wings hard, forcing up a cloud of dirt, dust, sticks, small rocks, and any other debris that would move towards the guards before side stepping to avoid any pre-knocked arrows that may have been loosed. A sudden fire lit under the soft scales covering the underside of his neck and chest where the three arrows had pierced his flesh. The sudden fear that gripped the aged dragon was pushed aside by the instant fight or flight response; in this case, fight. Valos' mouth glowed with a dark, almost purple intensity before the beam of Arcane energy streaked out towards the hunters, scattering them if nothing more.


Rasrik and Quynn


They picked their path through the trees, with Rasrik's drunken guidance, and finally came upon the clearing. Quynn spotted them, the old dragon and the soldiers: hunters, armed with bows and swords and deadly poison - just another wonderfully agonizing and slow ways they've invented to kill dragons. "Son of a..." Quynn muttered quietly under his breath, his hand hovering over the hilt of his longsword. Rasrik unsheathed his own blade, his hands remembering the skill from years of experience(Though muddled with ale), and charged, to the best of his ability, running his sword through one of the hunters in the back of the group. "VALOS!"


Rasrik, despite his drunkenness, felt a sudden wash of relief and fear come over him as he connected with his dragon. "Quynn, it's poison." Valos is poisoned. I'm ploughin' drunk and my dragon is poisoned. Tears began to form in his eyes as Rasrik struggled to pull his sword from the dead guards body, his drunkenness swiftly catching up with him as he tried to fight and protect his dragon. Of all the times to be drunk....

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Cinder and Voarex


"Looks like we're gunna have to find new hunting grounds Voa." Cinder said out as she knelt down beside a broken trap. Her gaze followed the footsteps that likely matched a pair of hares with one trailing droplets of blood. While the woman was no expert when it came to trapping animals of various sizes, she had always thought her construction methods were to par. Voa nudged her back reassuringly as she lay in the snow lazily beside the former emasari. "You're right.." She said as she started to pack what salvageable items from the trap setup that she could into a side pouch before standing. "There'll be plenty more traps to place, but still more to place. I know Wuld wouldn't dog me too much, but everyone has their limits if they're hungry. Even you." She finished with a small smile and a pat on the arcane dragon's snout before moving to mount her.


With a few powerful flaps the pair were back in the air and heading towards the next trap to check, and that was when she felt it. Voa's head craned to their right as did her rider and the two shared a moment of anxiety. The cave that she and the other surviving wardens were using was surely beyond their range of sense. So what was this new threat? As if on cue, the cries of both dragon and man could be heard echoing faintly through the range. Cinder's brow set and she hardly needed to ask twice as they changed direction towards the source of the cries, and the shadow magic. She swallowed as she took Voarex into a shallow dive to pick up speed before cresting the top of a closing ridge. For some inexplicable reason, sensing the dark energy that shadow magic emanated made her scarring throb ever so lightly. Maybe it was just her mind, or the adrenaline that came from knowing that that feeling was never a good thing.


Finally the two passed a towering mountain to find the source of contention going on in the skies not too far from them. A large, likely Earth, dragon with a rider spewing what looked like ravens towards the fleeing dragon. Yup, this was their fight to get into. If that warden was any of the ones from the cave, then she'd need to ensure their survival to find out what in the hell was going on. 'C'mon girl, faster!" She urged as they continued further. Cinder was grateful for Voa's speed, and even as they were gaining on the pair, she felt that they couldn't be going any faster. At the very least, they had the element of surprise. Fighting such a large dragon and a dangerous foe would be tough if the fleeing dragon and warden were weak. Suddenly she regretted having to split up with Eadric after having met so soon. A second arcane dragon and rider would be ideal for the fight. "Aim right for it's back. We've got to gain it's attention. Give 'em a good rip!" Cinder called, Voa gave an aggressive growl before releasing a blast of arcane energy towards the back of the earth dragon and it's shadow magic rider.

 

[JDParadox]

Rasrik and Quynn


As Rasrik charged headfirst into the fray, Quynn drew his own weapon and followed after the man, more concern for his old mentor in his eyes than anything else. Rasrik was always the best with his blade and Quynn owed everything once of his own skill to the man, but alcohol does strange things to people. And as far as he could tell, Rasrik was drunk out of his mind.


When Rasrik and Quynn had first arrived they had caught the guards by surprise, causing enough of a distraction to startle the bowmen, who thankfully missed their mark the second time round. Valos had taken the opportunity to fire a stream of Arcane energy at the bowmen, destroying several of them and scattering the rest. Valos then, carefully, moved back into the cave to try and remove the arrows


Quynn's longsword, though battle-worn, still cut through the soldiers' armor with ease. He plunged the blade through one soldier's side and he quickly fell, the look of shock still on his face. Quynn twisted the sword and tore it out, blood and guts and all, before bringing it up to parry a downward blow. Their eyes met briefly as the metals clanged and deflected. A veteran, fury in his eyes, yet also wariness. Maybe a father, defintitely a son. Sorry it had to end this way. Quynn ducked low, then used the muscles in his legs to drive the sword deep into the ither man's stomach.


"Rasrik?" Quynn looked over his shoulder, searching for the man who was fighting his own battle. "I'm....fine Quynn." Rasrik grunted as he hefted his sword out from between a guard's neck and shoulder, the blade having caught in the man's collar bone. Rasrik realized that he had been sweating heavily, no doubt the alcohol being forced out of his system. Slowly his sobriety was returning, but of course it couldn't come any faster. Between Rasrik and Quynn they had successfully drawn most of the guards' attention away from Valos, giving the poisoned dragon the opportunity to stay out of the fight. They more his heart rate rose the more the poison would spread, forcing Valos to have to pick and choose how to carefully defend himself.


Quynn let his latest kill gently slide of the edge of his blade, leaving behind a thin coat of crimson upon the metal. It had been a young man, a mere footman who carried more pride than skill. If he was born with a different color of hair, that perhaps could have been him instead on the deadly end. Thr body fell to the ground with a thud, his hands clutching his wound in futility. Damn this war. Damn the Thalls. Damn all the lies thry've spread. Quynn felt a pang of regret as the body stopped twitching; just a pang, the other deadly things swinging at him made it difficult to think too much about it.


Rasrik squared off with a rather burly guard with a sword and shield. Rasrik smiled as he reached out and gripped his blade with his left hand before circling his opponent. The man ran forward, dropping his shield, and swung hard with his sword. Rasrik moved his blade up to parry the oncoming strike, side stepped, caught the guard's blade with his sword's hilt and twisted, wrenching the guard's blade downward as Ras passed into the man's guard, driving the point of his sword deep into the guard's throat.


As he pulled his sword out Rasrik found himself and Quynn getting boxed in by the guards. The sudden roar that echoed from the cave, followed closely by a blast of Arcane fury, told Rasrik that Valos was, for all intensive purposes, keeping the guards at bay on his end. "What I wouldn't give for to be in my plate right now, let alone with my old squad. Though, I can't really complain. Two Wardens are better than one, but I have to ask. Where is Kovinth?"


He and Rasrik now had their back against one another and a dozen or more soldiers surrounding them, all seeking vengeance for their fallen brothers and sisters. "He's running late, I think" Quynn muttered, half laughing, half filled dread. The big oaf must have heard the fighting by now, so where was he?


Kovinth


Kovinth was starting to get impatient as he waited for Quynn to come back. He wasn't usually anxious like this, Kovinth that is, but he couldn't shake the churning in his stomach, despite having just dined on a raw, tender boar. Lifting his head and neck up, he swallowed the last piece, leaving behind nothing but bones.


He was lying down now, but he was still restless. He has always hated when Quynn left him behind like this, while he went to work. He missed their adventures, thogh he'd never admit it. The need for discretion was of course, not uncalled for with dragons being the world's favorite game to hunt.


But this time it felt different, something was wrong. However unpunctual he was, Quynn has never taken this long. Kovinth's suspicions were soon confirmed, as he lifted his neck and craned his head, the same way he always did when he sensed something danger. Metal against metal. The screams and deathrattles of men. The low rumbling of a beast, injured.


A dragon. That was a bloody dragon.


Kovinth didn't waste anytime. He stood up on his hind legs, let out a roar he had kept dormant for three months, and took flight. He hadn't felt the air under his wings since eternity. He soared through the sky, high above all the rest, as it was meant to be.


The clearing quickly came into view; naught but a mass of ants to him from this height, and no dragon either, but Kovinth could smell the blood, hear the sounds, feel the ebb and flow of battle from here. He descended slowly, gliding on leathery wings. The masses of shapes became clearer as the ground came up closer and closer. And there was Quynn too, the bastard, surrounded alongside a familliar looking man. What has he gotten himself into this time?


The dragon relaxed his wings and let himself plummet head first to the ground, talons raised and teeth bared.


Rasrik and Quynn


A layer of frost started to form around him, and the air grew cold. Soon enough, Quynn was encased in solid blue ice covering his vitals. This was not going to be as simple a fight as he originally thought. One of the soldiers finally gathered the courage to charge at them, and the others soon followed, weapons raised, screaming at the top of their lungs. Quynn raised his blade and steeled his body and mind for a full melee.


And then, they all gave pause, as a shadow blotted out the sun.


it landed in a flurry of glinting silver scales and red blood. Several of the soldiers managed to jump out of the way, but others were not so lucky. All that was left of them were scattered and broken bodies. The massive beast let out a feral roar from its bowels, loud enough to send the survivors scrambling backwards.


"Sure took your sweet time, huh?" Quynn made his way over to Kovinth and placed a hand on his leg, laughing all the while. Both of them were soon armored with a layer of solid ice. The poison wouldn't be much effective now that the arrows simply could not penetrate.


He smiled to his old mentor. It looked like the tables just got flipped. It was amazing how quickly moral dropped at the sight of a healthy dragon crushing most of your squad. For his part in finishing off the last of the guards, Rasrik found himself hanging back and letting Quynn and Kovinth take most of the work. His head felt like it was going to split in two. "I'll be damned if I taste another mug of that pig slop ever again."


When it came down to the last guard Rasrik held up his hand. "Stop, Quynn, we need one alive." Quynn was ready to drive his blade down to finish him off, but stopped at the words. Valos slowly crawled out from the cave entrance and looked over the scene. Spotting Kovinth, Valos crawled the rest of the way out of the cave and walked over to the silver dragon, making a guttural sound in greeting to his friend. The poison burned inside him, but there was still time as long as Valos remained calm and kept his heart rate low. The Ice dragon responded in kind, slightly lowering his head out of respect. After all, the Arcane dragon has walked this world much longer than he had.


Rasrik walked, to the best of his ability, over to the remaining guard as he scrambled along the ground, though he stopped moving the moment Rasrik put the edge of his sword against the guard's throat. "Its time for some answers. Who sent you?" Quynn stood by Rasrik as he worked his magic, wiping the blood off of his blade and spoke nothing, while Kovinth had his head hanging over the guard, growling menacingly. It was a promise of pain, a lot of pain if they didn't get an answer they wanted.

 

[Effervescent]

The Joust Tavern

​

No one had paid much mind to the old man a table over. He was muttering something, sure, but the Queen's Guard were used to drowning out the drivel of old men that complained of better times and better men. Dana, the tavern owner, wiped her hands on her apron and huffed in frustration as she leaned over to look around the guardsmen. She scanned over the patrons engaged in light conversation, some taking part in their meals quietly as they stared out the window's expanse. It looked as though Dana were looking for someone specific, and the woman guard took notice first.


"Everything alright, Dana?" she asked thoughtfully before taking a sip of her juice.


Just as Dana's lips parted to respond, her attention was pulled towards the bearded swordsman who rose from his seat to the table next. The two guardsmen followed Dana's gaze, their stares halting upon Waethrin to eye him over thoughtfully. The man's brow furrowed at the sight of someone so old still carrying a weapon.


"Well," the guardsman began, his elbow shifting to rest upon the table as he relaxed into the conversation, "we've been bringing Dragon Warden into Rosenfall since Autumn. Ah, let's see if I can recall. Most of them have been executed, but there might be one or two others to be put in this trial. I'm afraid I don't know much past that. I'm not part of that detail. My assignment's been to patrol the city."


"Yeah," the other guard cut in as she turned in her seat to face Waethrin. "We won't get to go to the trial, either. Someone's got to keep watch of the streets. But make sure you get in line early. I hear a lot of people from all over the kingdoms are coming to see what the Queen has in store. This is a pretty big deal considering. But the courtyard can only hold so many people, so a lot of people are going to have to wait outside to hear the verdict."


"Too bad Addiver isn't here," the man added. "He knows the most out of us in the Guard."


As if on cue, a tall brunet clad in more simple armor lined in a runic design entered The Joust. He ran his hand through short-cropped hair as he sighed away tension within his shoulders. The two more extravagant looking guardsmen hailed the newcomer with raised glasses and called him over to their table.


"Speak of the Shadows!" the man called out. "Addiver, get your ass over here! Tell us everything!"


Dana scurried away murmuring something about fixing the man a meal. She disappeared into the kitchen as Addiver approached, a faint, polite smile on his lips as he nodded to his kinsmen and then to Waethrin.


"Iselle," Addiver regarded the woman, then turned to the man. "Bensen. And who's this fine gentleman?"


Addiver turned towards Waethrin, and extending in gesture of a handshake as Bensen spoke. "Don't know, but he was asking questions about the trial. Know anything about more than just the kid you brought in?"


A frown etched itself into Addiver's features. He was a man reaching mid-life, and the stress of his job and weathering of age started showing in deeper wrinkles and the loss of a once-chiseled jawline. "There is another, yes," he responded. "They're bringing in survivors of Edlenfeld to the stand, too."


"By all that's good," Iselle quietly said, her eyes widening in disbelief. "I thought they all went mad."


@Red Thunder

Rosenfall Dungeons

​

The small chasm of the singular oubliette had no other exit than the one high above, and due to that the only light would come from the grated opening. The cavern walls looked mostly natural, though part of the dungeon was obviously chiseled away to make for more room and depth. To prevent prisoners from climbing up the walls to the exit, the structure held a domed shape, the natural rock smooth and layered in slimy moss.


The light was suddenly blocked by a silhouette that whistled lightly to grab the attention of the two Dragon Wardens. Through the grates, a small sack was lowered by rope into the oubliette. "Dragon Warden," the silhouette whispered. The acoustics caused his quiet voice to magnify enough for his words to be clear. "I bring you food. Both of you. I saw the boy brought in. Do either of you injured?"


@Macaberz @Elle Joyner

The Northern Mountains

​

The blast of intense Arcane energy blasted into the Shadow Dragon's scales. Having once been an Earth Dragon, its scales held onto its strength like a bulwark, and the energy merely fishtailed its course in the skies. The Shadow Caster mounted upon the dragon turned its attention away from the waning Dragon Warden before them, and while they shifted their course away, the murder of shadow crows remained to torment the Fire Caster and his dragon.


The Shadow Warden flew behind a mountain peak to flank Cinder and Voarex, and swiftly appeared with a roar of frustration. The dragon conjured a beam of shadow energy right for Voarex's torso, and the Shadow Caster raised his hand into the air. Right behind the Shadow Warden was a different Dragon Warden in pursuit. The rider was clad in warm clothing and furs about her frame, but there was no mistaking they were both of Ice as the blue and white feathers upon the slender dragon beat against the chilling winds.


Cinder would recognize the dragon from her meeting not but a day earlier. Her unique, stocky head and jowls were fierce in a constant toothy grimace, and she was missing her back left foot and part of her tail. The typical fervor of Ice Casters was evident as the rider manipulated the snow and ice from the caps surrounding them, honing them into shards to thrust towards the Shadow Warden.


Their enemy could see the odds were against them, and he called back the crows to him, absorbing them into his body before thrusting out his arms to point towards Cinder. Black tendrils shot from his arms with speed as they tried to grapple into her soul to create a binding link.


"Look out!" the Ice Warden called.


@Space Cowboy Ein

Just Outside Bettleben
​

The fight was lost as soon as it started. It was common for human folk to underestimate their Dragon Warden foes. While they could take down a dragon in a small group, they could not handle a dragon and a rider, much less two, much less another dragon. The lone survivor felt his heart pounding in his chest, so much so he could swear he could see the harsh beating from within his runed breastplate.


Despite the protection of the runes, he was no match for the blade of a sword, especially unarmed. The guardsman raised his hands in mock surrender, as if maybe his enemy would show him mercy after attempting to kill a dragon. Fear and uncertainty creased his brow as he looked up at Rasrik.


"I-i-isn't that obvious?" the man asked rhetorically. It was a strange question in his mind, for the Dragon Wardens had been the enemy of the allied kingdoms for over a season now. "Q-q-queen Malan pays us for each dragon and warden killed. Faledrin needs the money. I-I-I have a family to support! This is just my job. This is just my job!"


@JDParadox @BookWyrm

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik and Valos.


Rasrik narrowed his eyes at this pathetic excuse for a man. Here he was begging for his life to be spared because it was just a job. Just a job. Those words ate at Rasrik, who used the tip of his blade to flip the man's helmet off his head. "Just a job? Was the sacking of Haven just a job? Was the murder of countless innocent lives, young wardens no older than your children back home, was that just a job? How about the butchering of the Dragon Wardens who have served and protected the kingdoms for generations? Was that just a job? Was all of that just a way to support your families, huh?" Rasrik felt his body tremble with anger, but the edge of his sword stayed just as still as ever.


"These rumors I've been hearing about Wardens being slaughtered, their dragons being butchered and used for meat, is that just a job?" Valos growled, his lips snarling back to expose massive canines that dripped with saliva. Rasrik looked over the his dragon, seeing the arrows sticking out of his chest. "Quynn?", Ras posed the question to his friend, sudden concern blinding his rage for a few seconds before he turned back to the man, if he could actually be called one. "Just a job. You say these words like you expect me to show you mercy, like I'm just another guy on a job." Rasrik stepped forward as he brought his blade up. He stopped just over the man, his feet on either side of him as he gripped the blade of his sword before pointing it's spiked pommel at the man's face. "Well, just so you know, this is personal."


Rasrik drew his arms back and brought the spiked pommel down onto the man's head. Pulling his arms up, Rasrik struck the man again. And again, and again, and again. Finally Rasrik brought the pommel down into one more murder stroke before wiping the pommel off on the dead man's clothing. He stood up and sheathed his sword before walking over to Valos, who mewled a greeting as he lowered his head. Rasrik laid a trembling hand on the dragon's head as the tears began to fall.


"I know, and swear to you now, I will never leave you again."


Rasrik leaned in and embraced his old friend before turning to Quynn. "How is he?"


@JDParadox

 

[Red Thunder]

Stoking the Embers of the Inferno:


Waethrin

Rosenfall - Stonehath - the Joust​

The old man examined the proffered hand a full five seconds, his expression calculating. Finally he took it, too late to have salvaged the greeting from discourtesy. He did, however, place his free hand upon his breast as he did so, the closed-fist-upon-the-heart a decades old sign of formal acknowledgement, the gesture little used or remembered in the modern day. As Addivar addressed his fellows, the old man merely stood by, arms crossed, as if awaiting an answer to his question.


"There is another, yes. They're bringing in survivors of Edlenfeld to the stand, too."


Underneath his hood, the septuagenarian's brows furrowed. His lips parted in the beginnings of a question, but it died on his lips when the tavern owner spoke up, clearly disturbed by the news.


"By all that's good. I thought they all went mad."


"I wasn't aware," the aged voice interrupted, "that towns could be destroyed in little time and with less news. I visited Edlenfeld in the last month of Summer, and though the place bustled with a bit more enthusiasm than I prefer, it certainly contained enough life to not merit applying the term 'survivors' to any inhabitants current or past."


His left hand left the crook of its brother's arm to stroke the ashen beard pensively, though from under his hood the old man's eye flashed in diametric anger.


"Addivar, was it? When is this trial, then? I'm told you know the most, and I would see it for myself. Moreover, the earlier I arrive the better, as per your fellow's recommendation." He nodded to the female guard that had advised the very thing.


@Effervescent

 

[JDParadox]

Quynn and Kovinth





Just a job, huh? So what's new under the weather? Quynn winced at the words, sheathing his sword into its scabbard and beckoning Kovinth over. He couldn't remember the last time those words had saved anyone. The poor sod could have begged for mercy, could have spilled more information, could have lied, even, to stall for time and fumble for a his boot knife. Instead, he had chosen to say those very words to a man blinded by rage, whose dragon had just been poisoned, and who had every intention to kill him. You damned fool. Quynn had heard Rasrik telling him to go check on Valos, but out of morbid curiosity he kept watching, biting his lips as the pommel came down once, then twice, then thrice. Kovinth never flinched once. After all, compared his own handiwork that was still scattered about the clearing, Rasrik's doing seemed like a child's joyful drawing.


Crack. Just a job. Crack. Again and again, until the soldier's face was nothing but a red, gory pulp. Quynn turned away to tend to Valos, leaving Rasrik to his bloody vengeance. These outbursts, best let them out now rather than later, at other inopportune moments.


"Poison. Bastards." Quynn hissed. He didn't know much about poison and herbs and was entirely out of his depth. But he knew, at least, when you tried to kill a dragon, you didn't muck about. Any poison shot at a dragon should be lethal, and that meant they had to hurry. Rasrik had finished, still breathing hard, trembling as he placed a hand on Valos. Kovinth was keeping an eye out for more enemies. He looked alert, eyes wide and head perked upright. "We need to hurry, he may not have a lot of time left" Quynn started, grabbing his mentor's shoulder for attention "Is there any guides around here? Anyone who can help us? Someone who knows poison, at least?" Quynn thought about using his magic to freeze up the poisoned blood somehow and stopping it from flowing to the heart, but quickly dismissed it as a foolish idea borne of desperation.


@BookWyrm

 

[Elle Joyner]

As the light that bled through the small grate dimmed, wavered, Raleia looked upwards and smiled faintly. In the time since she and Winnock were discovered at their camp in the field outside of Rosenfall and brought in on the purported charges, her treatment by the Thalls had been less than idyllic. She'd expected no less from the barbarians who had ruthlessly slaughtered her people, yet she had been surprised by the appearance of a man whose aid had thus far proved invaluable. He couldn't do much, but the food he brought, and possibly more-so, the information had served to keep her will strong... had served to keep her alive. The threads of hope were gossamer thin, but they were there, woven, in part, by a stranger whose face she had never even seen.


Looking to Olsten, she held up a hand to let him know everything was fine, before she rose to her feet to retrieve the sack. Inside she knew she would find food... not much, but enough to survive by. She hadn't meant to lie to Olsten earlier, but she had not the heart to tell the boy that there would be on meals from their captors. It was only another indication that they weren't meant to survive this mess. And they wouldn't, not without help.


Opening the sack she pulled out the small parcel and unfolded it. Inside was a half loaf bread, slightly stale but without mold, bits of cheese and a few cold potatoes. It wasn't much, it never was, but it was enough. Taking the bread she broke off a chunk, "Eat slow..." She added, holding it out to Olsten,


"Thank you, Friend..." She called up, quietly enough that only he might hear, "...We're well, but all the better for news. What word is there on the trial? Do the people know of the boy's capture? How has this information been received?"

 

[Macaberz]

Rosenfall Dungeons

Olsten
​

Olsten had lost track of time. Day and night slipped into each other with the ease of minutes. Perhaps not even a day had passed, maybe several had. Who was to say? Only the increasingly hollow feeling in his stomach indicated any time had passed at all.


Sometimes the walls swelled and throbbed like some putrid dark maw dripping with slime, ready to gobble them up. No matter where he looked, the darkness was closing in, edging nearer and nearer with every passing tick. Featureless faces stared at him, their shadowy shapes twisting and melting until only one harrowing face remained. It was the face of a Baladuri with small dragon fangs pierced through his gauged ears. It was the face of a bounty hunter determined to add new hair to the red fur lining his cape. On instinct, Olsten reached for his magic...


Nothing. Nothing, but a suffocating darkness which he stumbled through like a drunk. He couldn't even conjure a spark. Yet the face drew nearer, the menacing grin upon it grew wider. The crystal-sharp sound of a knife being drawn ringed through the air. "Dragon Warden," the specter spoke with a hollow voice. Desperation washed over him.


"Dragon Warden”


Olsten awoke with a jolt. He tasted icy sweat on his lips. His heart beat like a rolling drum. The face was gone, and the shadows had subsided, replaced instead by the near ethereal presence of Raleia. She stood out like a lily in a cave.


A motion of her hand was all it took for his disheartenment to fade. She would’ve been a good mother, he couldn’t help but think.


A low rumble emanating from his stomach reminded him of his priorities. Ignoring Raleia’s warning, he stuffed the bread in his mouth, hardly taking the time to chew before swallowing it down. It wasn’t until he’d quenched his ravenous hunger with a potato that he managed to mutter a thank you, directed at the stranger and Raleia alike.


“I’m not injured,” he half-whispered. “Groggy. Couple of grazes maybe, mostly just…” scared. You’re scared and weak and pathetic “…mostly just uncertain. Like I can’t do anything, and if I can, as if it won’t matter.” He gazed up at the silhouette, the thinnest slither of hope in his voice.

Orignal art by Macaberz.

​

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Cinder and Voarex


Voa's attack had gone just as Cinder had expected. The arcane blast barely put a scratch in the former earth dragon but at the least it took the pair off of the fleeing dragon warden. Still, the shadow magic enveloped the warden, but there wasn't much she could yet to do help him. She had to keep her eyes on her foe who was making a break for a nearby mountain top. Silently she cursed to herself before turning Voa into a wide loop in the opposite direction. She wasn't going to be able to take them head on, but if she could find a way to use the mountains to her advantage, maybe...just maybe. Her head followed the other side of the peak and winced a bit as the shadow dragon and warden emerged from behind the cover of the mountaintop, and they were coming right for them.


Her scars throbbed again as she urged Voa into a dive while putting up a ward to protect them from the coming attack. The beam missed Voa, and slammed against Cinder's ward. Within moments it broke through and skimmed across her left shoulder, causing her to cry out in pain as Voarex leveled out. The beam, though lessened in power from passing through the ward, tore the clothing from her shoulder and delivered burns to her skin. The arcane dragon gave a concerned growl but Cinder sucked it up and looked back towards their assailants. Her vision had blurred slightly from the pain, but she could still make out and at least sense the shadow caster and their dragon. Suddenly appearing behind them, she could see a second dragon, and for a moment her heart sank. Reinforcements? Was this going to be it for her?


She started to mentally prepare herself for a two on one fight to death when a familiar voice called out over the wind. Telling her to...watch out? Before she react or even command her dragon, Voa decided to take matters into her own hands. Cinder thankfully got the warning to hold on as they rolled hard to the right and into a dive before shooting up to avoid the incoming tendrils. Cinder forgot how badly she handled Voa's free form flying. The dragon was graceful in her own way, but even in the thick of battle the former emasari had to fight the urge to vomit. Cinder squeezed her eyes shut, but they were so close now to their enemies that she could nearly sense their exact presence, they ended up above the Shadow Warden. "Hit them again!" She called out before swallowing back down her breakfast. Voarex complied in earnest by firing off another beam of energy towards the rider and dragging in a way to attempt a crippling hit on the right wing.


@Effervescent

 

[Effervescent]

The Joust Tavern

​

The three guardsmen stared at Waethrin in confusion, their brows slowly furrowing as they took in his words. They knew people had been traveling from all over the allied kingdoms to attend this trial, or seek out warmer climates in a more suitable location than Faledrin. Despite the foreigners about Rosenfall, they all managed to give their condolences in regards to the Butchering of Edlenfeld. It was an event that everyone heard of, as it was due in part to rallying the kingdoms against the Dragon Wardens in the first place.


Yet here was a man who, in the heart of Thallas and the middle of Rosenfall, had not heard of the terrible happening on the village of Edlenfeld. The old man's question went unanswered in a moment of silence produced by their confusion. Addiver Cald finally shook himself out of the stupor and responded.


"A week's time," he said as he observed the aged man before him more thoughtfully. "And I'd recommend you research what happened in Edlenfeld before you go, or else you might be at a loss for the entire reason as to why the trial is even taking place."


@Red Thunder

Rosenfall Dungeons

​

"It's good you are not injured," the silhouette of a man called back from the grated hole. Behind him, the noon-day sunlight beamed across vibrant blue skies. Wisps of clouds gathered and flowed slowly across the sky like watery strokes of white watercolor muddied with a tinge of grey. While the day was beautiful, the Winter chill was amplified as it clung to the rocks within the oubliette where the sunlight could not reach.


"The trial is set for a week's time," the man continued in a harsh whisper downward. "News of the boy has gotten 'round the city. People are a bit uneasy about that. 'He's too young' they say."


The man's silhouette suddenly whisked away allowing more sunlight to brighten the darkened spaces of the dungeon. There came the distant sound of a conversation too far away for the two prisoners to completely discern. Judging by the tone, it was formal, likely business between guardsmen. Minutes passed, along with silence, and it almost seemed as though he was gone for the time being. But then he returned, his body huffing as he lowered himself to his chest to better whisper into the opening.


"You're not alone, Dragon Wardens," he said to them. "Your dragons are safe. The fire one is an hour out from the city. The other is being kept in the Old Hall. They're using the last of the moon dust on them. They'll never be able to keep another dragon alive after this, and they're not sure of what to do once they run out of dust. Cald says they've only got a day's worth left between the two dragons. A blacksmith's already fashioned muzzles and cuffs. It's not going to be pretty. We're looking into ways to free them, but we haven't figured out a way to get them past the cannons and ballistae."


@Elle Joyner @Macaberz

The Northern Mountains

​

As the attention waned from him, the Fire Dragon Warden gathered up as much energy as he had left. The slender, red scaled dragon struggled, but felt her rider's sense of urgency and matched it with her own will to aid her friends. The pair shot through the frigid winds that bit and chiseled at their fatigue to catch up to the Ice Dragon Warden and mount another attack on the opposing Shadow.


The Shadow Warden swooped about, and then suddenly their forms disappeared in a cloud of inky black smoke only to reappear right next to Cinder and Voarex. The Shadow Dragon snapped its jaws at Voarex's wing as the caster flicked his wrist towards Cinder while trying to conjure fear within her mind to shroud her advancements.


The other two Dragon Wardens would not let this go on undeterred, and they sprung into action in tandem. Their dragons took flank, and simultaneously both conjured fire and shards of ice struck out by both caster and dragon, pummeling the Shadow Warden with the force of their combined powers. It was enough not only to deter the Shadow Warden's attack from continuing, but it broke through their dark defenses, and the dragon cried out in a roar of pain.


Their only option was to flee, but they would not be allowed to do so. Balls of flame bursted into explosions when met with the conjured ice. Hot steam burned the leathery portions of the dragon's wing and stung the exposed skin on the Shadow Caster. Another burst of attacks, and the rider fell suddenly limp. His dragon, despite the lack of severe injuries, stopped beating its wings and went still, its head drooping until finally gravity took them.


The two Dragon Wardens circled as they watched the Shadow Warden crash within the canopies of evergreens far below and signaled to Cinder to land with them on the nearest clearing on the mountainside.


@Space Cowboy Ein

Just Outside Bettleben

​

This was it. This was his end, and he knew he had to steel his mind and prepare for the worst possible death. His wife, Adelle, had always fussed at him for choosing his line of work. "Think of your children, Gerald!" she'd say to him. The wave of her raven hair wisked past his mind the way it would captivate him in her every movement. She was the sight of beauty in his eyes, and their children took after their mother perfectly. This was his safe place. He only wished he would have had the ability to see them once again; to kiss the little foreheads of his children to assure them their daddy was home to protect them.


His breath seized in his lungs as he took in a sharp inhale just before the spiked pummel pierced through his skull. It wasn't enough to kill him immediately, and the Dragon Warden did not let up in a warning. Eachpierce shot pain through him until damage to his brain caused him unable to properly respond to the agony inflicted upon him. Eventually, it was only blood and brain matter that could confirmed his death.


Valos seemed to be in a favorable position, yet still poisoned by the arrows. They would have time to save the dragon before the poison spread further into his system, but they would need to act quickly. Finding a Guide was often a challenge, especially so close to Thallas, but being in such a seedy place as Bettleben, there would surely be an apothecary who would know a thing or two about treating poisons.


One such apothecary was Ol' Barne's Apothecary set right within the heart of the small town of Bettleben. Its shop corner location right at the square led to sizeable foot traffic, and rumor has it the old crone now works for the Underground selling the greatest and rarest of poisons to the highest bidder. The afternoon was under way, and the town was alive to set the challenge of how to proceed, if at all, to the only known apothecary around for miles.


@BookWyrm @JDParadox

 

[Macaberz]

Rosenfall Dungeons

Olsten & Raleia
​

Olsten stopped feasting on a cold potato to roll his eyes. Even if being too young was going to save his life, it didn’t make him any less annoyed at being considered just a kid. He could fend for himself just fine.


Which is why you’re stuck here.


Shut up.


Well at least you’ve got pretty company.


She’s too old.


…you’ve got her all to yourself for a week. Might as well make the most of it.


Shut up! Olsten spun around with a stomp before plonking down on the icy floor.


Like the wind the stranger had disappeared, and Olsten seized the opportunity to set the record straight. “I’m fourteen you know,” he grumbled at Raleia. “I was one of the oldest in Rasrik’s class.”


Dull green eyes settled on an infinitesimally small point in space and shifted out of focus. The cold, hunger, and lack of proper sleep were all things he could overcome. But the worst of it all was the waiting. The endless waiting. The inability to tell day from night and the uncertainty of Grybil’s fate. It didn’t matter what the people thought of him. If the Queen wanted to kill him she could.


But if she wanted too, she would've done so by now. He jumped up and started to pace around. “If the Queen wanted us dead, she’d have done so by now,” he repeated his thoughts aloud. “And unless she expects us to live on thin air for a week, she knows we’re being taken care of by him,” he nudged his head towards the grated iron.


“Which probably means he, or she, is in the Queen’s service. Which means we can’t trust them, which means…”


He stopped his sentence as the stranger returned. His horror only increased. Addiver had kept his promise, that much was clear, but unless they got out quick, their Dragons would soon be dead. It was clear that they would not be able to climb out, let alone be able to smash through steel. Even if the unknown helper would toss them a rope, they would not be able to get far, much less be able to free their Dragons. Their only hope of escape was the trial. “…but we can’t afford to sit here for a week,” he finished his thoughts aloud.


He kicked a loose stone in agitation, but only managed to hurt his toe.


And then it hit him. The Queen wanted them alive, or she would’ve killed them sooner. And so their ticket out, the only way they had to speed up the procedure, was to threaten their own lives. Raleia wasn’t likely to hurt him though, and so he was left with only two options. Either he would threaten to hurt himself, or...


Olsten clenched his fist at his side. Please forgive me, he thought as he bounded over to Raleia.


Please forgive me.


The first punch was aimed at her face, the second at her belly. Her experience was unlikely to save her from something so unexpected, and he was counting on his actions being exactly that.


“You can tell your Queen this!” he shouted up at the guide. “Either she promises to keep our Dragons from harm, or she won’t have anyone left to put on her damned trial!”


As much as it pained him to have struck Raleia, he considered there was another advantage to doing so. After all, the Queen would not make a good impression if her prisoners looked worse for wear. He raised his fists, ready to strike again.


@Effervescent @Elle Joyner

Orignal art by Macaberz.

​

 

[Elle Joyner]

The news wasn’t as favorable as she had hoped. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t last a week, but with the weather turning colder and their food scarce as it was, it would be terribly difficult living conditions down in the jail. Her greatest concern, of course, was that the water, which up to this point trailed down into their little hovel in a fine enough stream that they had enough to drink, might freeze if it grew too cold. Food they could do without, at least for a few days, but without water they would surely die.


And a part of her was certain that was the Queen’s gambit.Olsten was a boy, and until now the people had not had to face the reality that their crusade against the Warden’s had already ended so many young lives, but Olsten would be an undeniable truth. Even people so ruthless as the Thalls could not put a boy to death for the crimes of his people… And she was sure the Queen knew that. She was banking on them perishing from the elements, from starvation or lack of water, because then the trial wouldn’t need to commence, and she would come out with clean hands in the matter.


As the man vanished from sight, Raleia turned to Olsten, surprised by the sudden outburst. She smiled faintly, shaking her head. It was so much like a boy to want to be a man before his time, and often times the reverse was true about men, behaving like boys. But as he continued his tirade, pacing back and forth like a trapped animal, her smile faded.


“Ollie…” She began, quietly, “We are hardly going to drop dead after a few days of light eating. What purpose would she have for keeping us alive, for putting us on trial? A trial that she most certainly isn’t guaranteed to win, if the word of your capture has indeed traveled to the people. And I have no reason to believe it hasn’t…”


The man returned and she glanced back up to the grate as the man continued and at his words she breathed out a sigh of relief, “Oh Winnie… thank the stars you’re alright, my sweet boy. Olsten, did you hear? Our dragons are--”


But as she turned to speak to the boy again, he had already moved, swung out and the brunt of the attack… the hard metal cuffs around his wrists sent her reeling. Graciously, stumbling back, she avoided the secondary punch, but the pain that blossomed in her jaw, and where metal had cut into her tender lip was hardly a consolation.


“Are you mad!?” She shouted, her hand rising the stem the small flow of blood from her lip, “That’s your brilliant plan? We beat each other to death and then they’ll just… what? Let us out? Move up the trial!? Wake up, Olsten. The Queen doesn’t care if we live or die. The only reason she’s going through this sham is because you’re here and she knows that the people would be furious if they discovered she executed a child without going through the proper procedure. We have not fallen so far in our quest for keeping peace that we would fight one another. Now stop it. And put your hands down...”


Shaking her head, she looked up to the grate, “...That man has been invaluable in keeping me alive since I have been here. I owe him my life, and for you to insinuate that he is somehow in leagues with that woman is not only ridiculous, but insulting. You’re better than that… We all are.”


@Effervescent, @Macaberz

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik and Valos





Rasrik shook his head. "No guides for miles. But," Rasrik hesitated, knowing what he was about to say could be a risk. But, it was for Valos, "There is an apothecary back in Bettleben. He can make a cure. I dropped in a while back after after drinking myself half to death one week." Rasrik grimaced at the memory. "I've not been handling Haven very well. For that matter, I haven't been handling much of anything well besides that ploughin' slop they call ale back at the inn." Rasrik turned and walked into the cave. He searched around for a minute before finding an odd flat rock. He moved the rock, swatted away a spider that had crawled into it, and pulled out the remainder of his savings. He opened the purse and counted it, nodding slightly before stashing the purse into the pouch on his belt, rejoining Quynn outside.


"I'm sorry old friend, but we've got to get these out."


Valos growled quietly, but pushed his chest out and tensed. He snarled as each of the three arrows were pulled out of his flesh. After patching up the wounds the best he could Rasrik broke the shafts off the arrows before bagging the heads. Valos mewled quietly, lowering his head and pushing against Rasrik gently. The grizzled warden smiled and laid a reassuring hand on the dragon's head, gently scratching his eye crests. "Its okay old friend. We'll be back as quickly as we can. Rest now, Kovinth will be here just encase." Rasrik stood up, looking to Quynn, before the two headed back towards town. Valos looked over to Kovinth, making a melodic rumbling sound before looking at the bodies laying near them. It was a shame to let such good meat go to waste.


Rasrik was moving better now, or at least he thought he was, though his head throbbed like a gong that wouldn't stop ringing. "There is only one problem with this apothecary. It's stuck right in the middle of the damn village, at the heart of Bettleben. With all the buzz around Thallas recently the crowds having been coming in and out of Bettleben more than I've ever seen before. I've wandered around this damned village for months now, so I can get us close, but we're going to have to find a way in and not look like two wardens while doing it." Rasrik and Quynn stood on the outskirts of the village, looking out from their vantage point in the woods. "Any ideas?"


@JDParadox @Effervescent

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Cinder and Voarex


Cinder forced her eyes open just soon enough to see her adversary disappear into a puff of black smoke. Her disorientation was only exacerbated by the appearance of the shadow warden and dragon just beside them. Voarex was still more aware of her faculties than Cinder was, and yet still couldn't fully dodge the shadow dragon's jaws as they clamped onto the tip of her right wing. The arcane dragon howled in her struggle to keep herself and Cinder in the air. Cinder fought to keep her hold on the drag and felt, suddenly, a primal fear creep into her mind. One that was keeping her from fully cooperating with her dragon. This fear, she could tell, was not her own, but of a foreign source. She tugged against Voa's reigns to get them to descend, whatever it would take to get away from the shadow warden. As scared as she already was, any further exposure to the enemy attack would render her useless.


But it seemed that the attack would not continue. Both fire and ice dragons had taken the opportunity to flank the shadow dragon and were delivering their own blows to the pair. The shadow dragon released Voarex from its grip as it cried out in pain and the arcane dragon was far too eager to oblige to Cinder's request. They dove away as the shadow warden and dragon were enveloped in a large explosion. Cinder felt the presence of shadow magic fade in intensity and turned her head to see the pair falling into the forest below. She let out a quick breath as the fear that nearly took control of her faded away. She nodded in response to the two riders and brought Voa down towards the nearest large opening she could find.


No sooner had they landed did Cinder dismount and find a nearby tree to release her breakfast at. As she did, her shoulder kindly reminded her that it had suffered burn wounds and the pain flared up during her retching. She released a quick string of expletives before throwing up again, but at least it seemed like that was it. She let out a long sigh and remembered that her dragon had also been injured. She turned around to see Voarex tenderly licking at her wound, the tip of her right wing was intact but the shadow dragon's teeth had dug deep and blood still was flowing out. Luck was, for once, on their side. The two shared a glance as the other two dragons set down not far from them. "You did good girl, even if you did fling me every which way." Cinder gave the dragon a consolatory pat on the head before starting towards the dragon wardens. Finally, her mind was clicking again and she was putting the situation together, which would help lead her line of questioning. "Thanks, both of you." She said to the wardens before getting down to business. It wasn't going to take a scholar to figure out that their hiding place had been found out, given the level of injury suffered by both parties. "Are you two all that's left?"

 

[JDParadox]

Quynn was no master poisoner or herbalist, but curing a dragon shouldn't be as simple as a man. It was a damn big chance they were taking, but he supposed death by poisoning wasn't much of an alternative. "I'll wait out here. You should get whatever you want to bring with you. I doubt they'll only send one group, especially since they won't be hearing anything back from these lot" Quynn watched as Rasrik wandered into the cave, then Valos and Kovinth greeting and conversing in grunts and rumbles, the way that dragons did. He was alone, and by way of habit, it wasn't long before he was rifling through the mangled bodies. His ego was aching enough to make him feel queasy, but never enough to stop him. You had to be practical, after all. The crows only picks at the flesh and beasts of the forest had no need for gold.


Dragon Warden, sellsword, and vulture. Needless to say, he was swelling with pride.


Empty, this one. He thought, looked up then spotted the glint: A silver ring on a severed arm, bloody bone broken off and sticking out if the meat, chainmail still draped over it; no telling who it was from. Quynn made his way over, crouched low and frowned as he pried the ring off and stuffed it into his pockets, all the while disgusted at himself even more than the gore. And yet the justifications still practically made themselves. "They don't need it. We do" He muttered quietly as Rasrik came up from behind and startled him.


Quynn jumped and turned at the man's voice, heart leaping to his chest, his hand already fumbling for his blade out of instinct, then realized it was only his old mentor, who had far more important things to occupy him. His muscles relaxed for a bit. He coughed, regained his composure and stepped over to join the others. As Rasrik worked on the arrows, Quynn waited, tapping his foot impatiently; there was little else to do but wait. Once Rasrik was done, they would head back into the village to find this healer.


"Well, play nice, children." Quynn glanced back as they walked. "If we don't come back, find and rescue us, eh?" Kovinth rolled his eyes, or did the equivalent of it, and turned his attention back to Valos. Quynn could never understand what the growls and rumblings meant, not due to lack of trying. Probably complaining about us, or scheming to eat us while we sleep. Once again they made their way back through the forest, though this time, it was nice to see Rasrik not stumbling over himself. They were standing on the edge of the woods overlooking Bettleben now and Quynn was surveying the village as he listened. Too many people to slip in unnoticed. If it was dark, maybe, but they didn't have time to wait until dark.


"Hmm" Quynn rubbed his chin, trying to appear thoughtful, though he was never much for plans and ideas. It was always much simpler to just charge in and then improvise. "Well, er... I don't suppose you can still cast an illusion? Or two? Something to make us look... simpler, perhaps." He suggested, trying to sound sure of himself and failing


@BookWyrm @Effervescent

 

[Red Thunder]

New Life in the Embers of the Inferno:


Waethrin


Rosenfall - Stonehath - the Joust
​

"A week's time. And I'd recommend you research what happened in Edlenfeld before you go, or else you might be at a loss for the entire reason as to why the trial is even taking place."


The old man's hand ceased its movement, suspended within the cloud of white beard. He blinked once; a slow blink, incredulous and bitter.


"I do not take well to evasiveness and subtlety, boy. If you didn't wish to tell me about Edlenfeld, you should simply have said so." He regarded them a moment longer then shook his head. "It's all so damned odd," he muttered under his breath as he turned to leave. "Lisella then; the Thalls now. Makes no damned sense."


Never giving the soldiers a second glance, the venerable vagabond stalked across the tavern and out the door, patrons making way for his heedless stride. But he knew that was the way of things: when you extended the open arms of generosity, of friendship, you were inevitably stabbed between the ribs. To give of one's self was to invite trouble, a lesson he'd learned long years ago.

​

Many paces and minutes later, Waethrin stared up at the reaches of the palace's towers. The years changed many things, and often it seemed as if the only constant was Change. Yet the palace looked just as it had the last time he'd visited decades ago. Scowling to himself, Waethrin clicked his teeth.


"Your parents would be disappointed, girl," he grunted. After another moment of angry contemplation, he strode off into the crowd.


@Effervescent

 

[BookWyrm]

Rasrik.





The old warden laughed. "Now I remember why I made you run laps after every class." It wasn't a bad idea though, despite how much it amused Rasrik. He scratched as his beard as he thought it through. "I could probably hide us long enough to cross the street and get into the shop. Now the trick is to get through the city without getting spotted." Rasrik pulled his hood up as he walked towards the Bettleben. If I step foot in this damned town again after this night...He complained to himself as he stalked past several guards who were arguing with a merchant about prices or some hogwash. Whatever it is it served a purpose, mostly in keeping the guards' attention off of Rasrik and Quynn as they slipped back into an alley way. "This will lead us to the spot, but we'll have to work out a way to the apothecary."


As Rasrik pushed his way through the various obstacles, mostly draping clothes of blankets hung out to dry on lines or the small alcoves that served as homes for the homeless or more unfortunate. Rasrik chuckled, recalling the day he first arrived in Bettleben. "The first day I came to Bettleben I found some of these alleys to be a useful way to avoid being seen. I was actually stumbling around this very alley when I came upon this Thall propped up against the wall, blithering drunk off his ass. He looks at me, I look at him and start reaching for my sword really slowly, and the guy waves me over and offers me a swig of whatever the hell was in his bottle. So I sat down and took a drink. Gods, I thought I was gonna die, that piss was nastier than the ale back at the inn. And this Thall just sits there and starts telling me this story. I'm listening to him the whole time, finally getting the idea that he is talking about the siege of Haven. Come to find out this guy was there. By this point I'm intrigued, trying to see where this guy is going with the story, but at the same time I'm worried if my cover is blown."


"The Thall goes on about the siege just as I remember it happening; the siege weapons striking before they breached the gate and all. This guys starts in, telling me about their captain leading them into this building and they started to kill the people inside, only to realize that it was a group of wardens protecting some of the younger children. He said he dropped his sword when he realized that he had killed one of the kids." Rasrik stopped suddenly, remembering the story as if it were playing out in front of his eyes. "He said he'd stayed for the whole siege, but afterwards he couldn't shake the image of seeing the kid he had killed. He'd deserted and ran off, heading village to village before finally ending up drunk in the back alleys of Bettleben. Then, after telling me all of this, he looks me dead in the eye and tells me, I know your a Warden. You have the look of one. I'll tell you right now, I'll never forget what you wardens did, but I'll never forgive myself for killing that child. I feel like this is fate coming back and giving me a shot at redemption for that mistake. He asked me to kill him, said he couldn't stand the guilt any longer."


Rasrik held his hand up suddenly. They had come to the end of the alley, and in the middle of the street stood the checkpoint with at least four guards posted around it. Rasrik ducked back in, turning back to Quynn. "Alright, lets see if I've still got it." Rasrik focused, trying his best to recall his old skill set. It had been so long since he had used his magic, with him being as drunk as he had been, he'd had no need to use it. But even now in what seemed like a life time later he still found the used path back to his old skill that had been so well worn from practice and use back in the days of Haven. He finally opened his eyes again, looking out at the guards. He could feel their Aetherial presence, picking out the one on the far end to play his part in this scheme. The illusion was cast, and the guard turned around, chasing after some figment of Rasrik's imagination that he had sent running past him. And like any good sheep, the other guards ran after the first, clearing up the way for them to cross over to the apothecary. Rasrik opened the door to the building and quietly closed it behind Quynn. "Alright, we get the cure for the poison and get out as quickly as possible"


@JDParadox @Effervescent

 

[Effervescent]

The Stonehath District

​

The three guardsmen exchanged confused glances as Waethrinexited The Joust. Addiver shrugged somewhat, and the other two turned back to their meals. Dana returned to the table with a full plate of brisket and beans and set it in an empty spot at the table with a smile at the officer.


"Thanks, Dana," he said. "I'll be right back."


Out on the streets of the Stonehath District, the afternoon was already bustling with traffic as citizens of Rosenfall went about their daily business. Gossip was aglow in every corner kept hushed and spread like the glimmer of a candle being passed to another. They covered the flame upon their tongues as eyes cast towards the bright towers of the castle and followed Addiver Cald as he strode past.


"Excuse me!" he called out towards Waethrin as he neared. It wasn't difficult to keep track of the man despite his speed. While it was a challenge to close the gap between them, he jogged a few paces every now and then to do the trick. "You there!"


Addiver rounded the man's side and exhaled in relief, completely missing the old man muttering to himself. "Whew, you know how to book it," he said as he evened his breath. "I need to apologize, sir. I can explain to you what happened in Edlenfeld, if you would like. I thought... Well, that doesn't matter, does it?" He looked up at the castle parapats, his eyes squinting as the sunlight hit the white and lavender stone. "I think it's something important, regardless of who you hear it from."


@Red Thunder

Rosenfall Dungeons

​

"What are you doing?" the guardsman hissed down as Olsten started to punch Raleia. He grasped the bars tightly and pushed his head closer to the opening. "Now isn't the time for this!"


There wasn't much he could do but watch. It seemed as though the boy was completely ignoring him, and it took Raleia to end her own suffering by using her logic and reasoning behind their situation. He frowned, and looked behind him as he listened to her words. Despite his bribery to garner some privacy with the prisoners, he still had to be on the lookout for his kinsmen's return.


"The trial was scheduled before anyone knew of your young friend there," the man corrected as he nodded his head down towards Olsten. "No one ever thought we'd capture someone so young. Look, None of us believe it was destined to be a fair trial. But having him means there might be a voice of reason in your cause. She'll have to listen to you now. Someone so young can't be corrupt. You're not corrupt, are you boy?"


@Elle Joyner @Macaberz

The Northern Mountains

​

The Fire Dragon Warden was exhausted, the dragon in a huffing heap in the snow melting in a circle as steam rose around her frame. The rider, Taklar, fell to his knees as he felt the fatigue set deeply in his muscles. The Ice Caster dismounted from her dragon and rushed to his aid.


"Sallen," he said to her. "Good timing as usual."


She didn't laugh, her face stern and serious as she helped the stocky man over to a rock. Hisred hair was pulled back in a mess, sweaty strands sticking to his round face. He gave Cinder a small wave in greeting coupled with a silent gesture to say his efforts were no big deal. Taklar was a man happy to help, thus his reason for pursuing the first Shadow Dragon alone in the first place.


Sallen turned towards Cinder after checking over Taklar for injury. "There are others still back at the Mouth of the Mountain," she explained, her head shaking somewhat as her jaw set. "We lost one of ours to those damned abominations." She pointed a pale finger to the sky to imply their former foe.


"I can't believe our own kind would dabble in Shadow Magic," Taklar said thoughtfully as he pushed back his hair from his face. "The dragons... They don't even act right. They act like puppets. Did you see anything else out here?"


@Space Cowboy Ein

Bettleben

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Ol' Barne's Apothecary was an open space filled to the brim with bottles and herbs and utensils designed for various applications. It was a two-story storefront, with the front half opened on both levels and the back stocked with shelves of supplies lining the upper walls. There was a spiced smell that lingered in the smoky air mixed with a scent of burning earthy leaves.


Over by the counter was a slow, steady creak across the wooden floorboards as a male Shae in a rocking chair puffed on a pipe thoughtfully. His eyes were cast towards the entrance, but he could not see the two Dragon Wardens through a tall shelf display at the center of the store. TheShae said nothing to the possible patrons, nor did he even attempt to budge from the comfort of his seat to greet them as any shop worker would do. It seemed as though there was no other person present aside from the Shae, though the back behind the counter was an unknown and was blocked off to the rest of the store by a door.


The only one to greet the two was a calico cat that rose from her sun spot in the corner window. She bared her fangs, but only in a sleepy yawn before slowly padding over to Rasrik and Quynn with a soft trill to garner their attention. Her light frame plopped down onto the floor to rub against Quynn's leg in greeting and to potentially win over a scratch or two on her back.


It wasn't until that point did the Shae speak. "Cannie help yous?"


@BookWyrm @JDParadox

 

[JDParadox]

Quynn winced slightly at the mentioning of those memories. Both the burning in his legs as he forced his way through the last laps and the aching that sometimes kept him awake at night weren't as amusing from his end as surely Rasrik thought they were. Admittedly, though, they were nothing compared to the injuries he received at Haven. Those had him groaning in pain for weeks, unable to take a proper breath without feeling like someone had just stuck another arrow in his shoulder again.


Quynn kept close on Rasrik's heels as they ducked and weaved their way through the crowded village. Quynn recognized the merchant as they passed him, the same one who had cheated him of his pay earlier. He paused a moment to consider doing something stupid, then thought better of it, giving the fat bastard an angry glance before catching up to Rasrik. The merchant, deeply engrossed in his argument, never once noticed them as they slipped away.


The dark alleyway, as alleyways tended to be, was the perfect backdrop for Rasrik's tale. The Thalls he had met had been much less hospitable than the one Rasrik was describing, having been a lot keener on spilling his blood rather than offering him ale. Quynn couldn't help but frown as he listened. Haven: the heat from the flames searing his hair and flesh; the smoke and dust suffocating him, burning his lungs; the stink of blood on his blade, his clothes, his face, on that of both his enemies and the only people he had ever known. And the screams. He had seen the massacre, the indiscriminate killing; watched as they butchered children, some with looks of horrors on their face, some with the ghost of a smile, and a few laughed. He had tried to stay open about it, afterwards. They were duped, of course, how could they have known those little kids weren't shadow monsters in disguise? How could they?


Tried as he might, Quynn never found a reason to forgive them; he certainly wasn't going to on account of a single repentant murderer. "The others weren't so high and noble, huh?". He gritted his teeth bitterly, before shaking his head to clear away the dark thoughts. Rasrik had ended the story abruptly as they reached their destination, though the ending didn't leave much for speculations.


Remorse. Repentance. Redemption. He guessed they wouldn't be called those if they happened when it mattered.


-------------------------------


"Well, it looks like you still can pull of a few tricks". Quynn commented with his usual demeanor, having regained it, as the door shut behind him. Ol' Barne's Apothecary, as he would later learn the name of, seemed to him as seedy as an apothecary could be, but that was the general theme of the whole village. At least it smells all right. He wasn't even sure anyone was home at first until he saw the man, rocking back and forth lazily in his chair. "Quickly as possible, huh? He doesn't seem all that eager" Quynn remarked quietly between himself and Rasrik as the cat rubbed against his leg.


Quynn crouched down to give the Calico's back a scratch, smiled a little, then sighed as he once again remembered their situation."This's a nice cat you have. A friendly sort, isn't she?" He stood up, leaving the feline still rubbing at his feet. He couldn't help but feel bad, but the clock was still ticking, and the poison was still coursing through Valos's veins. Playing with household pets was an activity meant for simpler, happier and less deadly times


"It would seem we do need your help. You wouldn't happen to know anyone who knows about poisons?" Quynn casually made his way over to the counter, giving the man a closer look. He could have been subtle with his asking, but with time being so limited, direct was their best choice. "Specifically about curing them" He glanced at Rasrik, gauging his reaction, then back at the man